de novo
by sodium-amytal
Summary: sequel of sorts to "pro bono." A series of one-shots following Saul and Jesse's relationship during the one-year timeskip. Lots of fluff with occasional smut.
1. Chapter 1

Jesse glances up from his phone and gets a good look at Saul, who's standing at the foot of the bed wearing a hilarious attempt at casual clothes. "That's what you're wearing to meet my parents?"

"I've already met them," Saul reminds him, "and I'm not dressing all fancy if you're just gonna show up like _that_."

Jesse looks at his own t-shirt and jeans. "What's wrong with my threads?"

"Wear a shirt with buttons. At least look like you're trying."

"Trying to what? Impress my parents? Dude, the news I got is more than enough to keep them happy for the rest of their lives." Jesse's getting into an actual college—one that requires an application—and is in a (hopefully) long-term relationship with someone healthy for him. It's a parent's dream come true. "You're the one with the handicap."

Saul's still wearing his judgemental face; Jesse's dubbed it one of Saul's least attractive expressions. "Which is entirely your fault, by the way."

"Chill, dude." Jesse rolls his eyes. "They probably don't even care anymore. And they're gettin' this place back when we move, so..." He shrugs as if that explains everything.

Saul takes a few steps closer to the edge of the bed where Jesse's sitting. "So if they don't care about the whole house thing, what, pray tell, is my handicap?"

"You know how parents are like, 'nobody's good enough for my kid'? That's your handicap. You could be the damn president and they'd still think I could do better." Jesse slides off of the bed and moves over to him. "So maybe you shouldn't wear jeans."

Saul huffs frustration. "Hypocrite."

Jesse tugs at the empty beltloops of Saul's jeans; he hopes the below-the-belt touching will distract Saul from the criticism. "Tellin' them was your idea, yo," Jesse reminds him.

"I asked if you were going to tell them. I didn't suggest it." Saul's voice wavers around the words, like Jesse's touch affects his ability to speak properly. He clears his throat, swallows thickly. "Why don't we slow this train down a bit, huh? I mean, there's no reason to lay it all on them at once, right?"

Another tug on the beltloops, and Jesse shifts his hips in a way that makes Saul suck in a breath through his teeth. "Alright, so when would be a good time for you?"

"Maybe as we're packing up the car and heading to Sarasota?"

"You're hilarious."

"Do your parents even know you're into guys?"

"No," Jesse says with a stupidly-wide grin. "They are so gonna freak." He pushes a hand underneath Saul's t-shirt, and Saul feels the heat of Jesse's palm over his skin. "Whoa, is that a Monty Python shirt?" Jesse tries to smother a laugh, but it's a wasted effort. "Jesus, how many times have you done this whole 'meet the parents' thing before you just stopped giving a shit?"

"I give a lot of shits, actually, but I'm reminded of your whole 'try to look like a real person' warning."

Jesse _did_ say that this morning over breakfast when Saul padded into the kitchen wearing comically mismatched socks. "Do you need me to dress you?"

Saul looks insulted for a moment. "You're better at undressing."

Jesse smirks. "Yeah, I am." He flicks his thumb over Saul's nipple to reinforce the point; Saul gives a quiet gasp. "I think you look totally hot." His other hand tugs at the button of Saul's jeans. "But maybe some nicer-lookin' pants would make a better impression."

"Says the guy wearing jeans two sizes too big," Saul grumbles like Jesse's being unreasonable and storms into the closet to change. "Wouldn't it make more sense if I dressed like someone you'd actually date?"

Jesse's still smiling as he drops onto the edge of the mattress. "You tryin' to say you're outta my league?"

"All I'm saying is that I walk in there looking the part of a lawyer, and they'll immediately assume I'm your sugar daddy."

Jesse laughs, and, God, it feels so good to give himself over to mirth after all the shit they've been through. "You totally are though."

"They don't need to _know_ that," Saul protests, peeling his jeans down his legs.

Jesse hops up from the bed and rushes over to him. His hands grab the denim before Saul can shed the pants. "Hold up, hold up. I changed my mind. You should wear the jeans 'cause your ass looks choice."

Saul tilts his head, gives Jesse a particularly judgemental look. "So now you're gonna show me off like some sort of trophy?" He doesn't look offended by this. He actually looks kind of proud, like this is something that's never happened to him before. Maybe it hasn't. Jesse doesn't know how to live in a world that doesn't appreciate Saul Goodman.

Jesse slides his hands over Saul's hips, links his fingers at the small of his back. "Hell yeah. I won the grand prize. You bet your sweet ass I'mma show it off." He squeezes Saul's ass for emphasis.

Saul captures Jesse's mouth underneath his own. "And I thought you only loved me for my body."

#

"You're sure about this, right?" Saul asks as they're heading up the walkway to Jesse's parents' house. "They know you're bringing a guest who might have a penis?"

Jesse snorts a laugh. "Pretty sure you've got an awesome dick, dude."

"Please don't tell them that."

Jesse glances over at Saul, who looks a little pale. "Are you actually nervous? Oh my God, that's adorable. I didn't think you had the ability to be embarrassed about anything. I mean, look at your commercials." He slinks an arm around Saul's waist as they walk up to the porch.

Jesse rings the doorbell. Saul stuffs his hands in his pockets, trying way too hard to be casual. He's willing to bet there's still some deep-rooted resentment in Jesse's parents here; first he swipes their house from under them, then their son? They might actually kill him. He cannot be in the same room with these people for the sake of his own safety.

Mrs. Pinkman opens the door and smiles when she sees Jesse. "Jesse, oh, you're looking healthy! How have you—" That's right about the time she notices Saul standing there. "Saul Goodman?" She narrows her eyes. "You're not here to bamboozle us again, are you?"

Saul laughs a little too loudly. "Not—not the way you're thinking," he says, still chuckling in a way that's absolutely stemming a nervous breakdown. "Nice to see you again."

Mrs. Pinkman shoots Jesse a suspicious glance. "Is Saul the guest you're bringing over?"

Jesse nods and smiles like a doofus. "Yeah, we're, uh, we're kind of a thing." He tugs Saul's hand from his pocket to lace their fingers together. Saul blushes impossibly further.

"A 'thing'?" There is way too much skepticism in her voice. Saul's ready to flee if he needs to.

"Yeah, y'know, like...dating. He's my boyfriend."

Saul is _so_ glad Jesse didn't say "sugar daddy."

Mrs. Pinkman looks from Saul to Jesse, then back to Saul. The corner of her mouth quirks into a smile. "Well, this is...this is something."

"Would you close the door already?" Mr. Pinkman shouts from another room. "You're letting all the bugs in!"

Mrs. Pinkman rolls her eyes and motions for Saul and Jesse to come inside. Jesse leads the way, while Saul's still moving slowly, like a timid deer trying not to excite a predator. "Dad's still got that bug phobia?" Jesse asks.

"It's us versus them, Jesse," Mr. Pinkman says, rounding the corner and stepping into the foyer. "Frankly, I'm starting to wonder whose side you're on."

Saul snickers despite his efforts to keep a straight face.

Mrs. Pinkman lays a hand on her husband's arm. "Jesse was just telling me about his boyfriend."

"Boyfriend, huh?" Mr. Pinkman lifts an eyebrow and looks directly at Saul. "The lawyer from those TV commercials?"

"The one and only," Saul chuckles weakly. He feels like throwing up or passing out. Or both.

Mr. and Mrs. Pinkman exchange glances, a silent conversation spoken through eye contact.

"And this is just, like, the tip of the iceberg, yo," Jesse says, trying to be optimistic. "I got way more to tell you."

"He's, uh, he's big into surprises, isn't he?" Saul offers.

There's a long stretch of terrifying silence, then Mr. Pinkman is the first to vocalize support. "Well, hey, I think this is great! It's about time Jesse found someone to keep him out of trouble."

It wouldn't be a visit with Jesse's parents without some backhanded compliments and passive-aggressive bullshit.

"Actually, Jesse's been doing a pretty great job of that himself," Saul says, because he's an awesome boyfriend. "I don't know why he keeps me around."

Jesse smiles and squeezes his hand.

#

"So, how'd you guys meet?" Jake asks over dinner. "Did Jesse do something bad?"

Mrs. Pinkman lets out a small gasp. "Jake, honey, we don't ask those kind of questions."

Saul smiles. "It's alright, really." Jesse momentarily panics that Saul might actually be honest about their origins. But Saul just says, "Jesse needed my help finding a place to live. I did some—let's call it _negotiating_—with your parents, and Jesse bought his aunt's old place."

Jake nods. "Cool."

Jesse clears his throat. He needs to dispel his parents' poor first impression of Saul with something positive. "So, a while back Saul brought up the idea of me goin' to art school."

Mrs. Pinkman looks surprised, like she hadn't thought Saul capable of anything but underhanded trickery. "Did he?"

"Yeah, so I started applyin' for a bunch of places." His grin spreads as he fishes the Ringling acceptance letter out of his jacket pocket. "And the other day I got this." He hands the letter across the table to his father.

Mr. Pinkman looks it over with a critical eye, passes it to his wife when he's finished. "It doesn't look forged," he mumbles to her.

Saul looks at Jesse as if to say, "Can you believe this shit?"

"Oh my God, Jesse, did you actually get accepted into college?" Mrs. Pinkman asks with an unnecessary amount of disbelief in her voice.

Jesse grins wider. "Totally."

Jake's the first one to actually sound proud of him. "You're going to college? Like, a _real_ college?"

Jesse nods; his face feels like it's going to crack in two from smiling so hard. "Yeah! It was in my top three, too."

Mrs. Pinkman looks over the acceptance letter. "Art school, huh?" Jesse braces himself for the inevitable backhanded compliment, but it doesn't come. "I'm glad you found something you like."

Mr. Pinkman eyes Saul warily. "You didn't have a hand in this, did you?"

Jesse scowls. "He just suggested it. I did all the work. I got in on my own merit, yo."

"All due respect," Saul says, "but Jesse's smarter than you think."

Jesse looks at him in awe, because, yeah, Saul compliments him all the time, but it still takes his breath away. Saul doesn't hold praise over his head or use it against him like that asshole Mr. White; Jesse doesn't think he'll ever get used to that.

"I always knew Jesse had potential," Mr. Pinkman says, analyzing the acceptance letter, and, wow, that's a little too close to Mr. White for Jesse's liking. Saul must sense Jesse's unease, because he lays a hand over Jesse's own to calm him.

"You know what this means, right?" Jesse says, trying to prod the conversation in the direction of his eventual move to Florida.

His parents give him a blank look. "You need tuition?"

Jesse frowns. "I'm moving to Sarasota." It comes out a little harsher than he intended, but, seriously, fuck them. "And Saul's goin' with me. We're gonna live together."

Mrs. Pinkman's face lights up. "Oh, that's wonderful!"

Jesse can't fathom why that would be her immediate reaction. He blinks once, twice. "What?" He looks over at Saul, seeking confirmation that he's not going completely insane, but Saul's just as confused as he is. "For real? You're cool with this?"

"Why not? You're going to college, you've found someone... I'm proud of you, honey."

Jesse's immediately suspicious. His parents have always been equally hard to impress as Mr. White was. Why the sudden change and acceptance of his new life? "You're proud of me?" Because he can't just ignore that, can he?

"Of course!" Mrs. Pinkman watches him like she has no idea why he might be confused. "This is fantastic news, Jesse! Aren't _you_ proud of yourself?"

"Well, yeah, but usually you guys are pretty stingy with the compliments, so..." He trails off, shrugging the words away. He can't remember the last time they were happy for him or supportive of something he wanted to do.

Mr. Pinkman's brows knit together in distress. Maybe he never knew how much Jesse needed words of support until now. "I'm glad you're getting your life together, Jesse," he says. "If you need anything—anything at all—just let us know."

Jesse has no idea what to say to that. He just kind of stares dumbly at his parents, then down at his plate, as if it might offer an answer.

"You're gonna live in Florida?" Jake asks. "How close are you to Disneyworld?"

Jesse shrugs, says, "I dunno," because he's never really thought about it.

"What about Sea World?"

Another shrug. "Maybe you could come visit sometime and we'll find out."

A smile spreads across the boy's face. "Seriously? That'd be awesome!" He looks over at Mrs. Pinkman. "Mom, can we?"

"We'll see, honey."

Jake's expression falls like he just witnessed someone kicking a puppy. Jesse can't help but feel like they still don't trust him, that even with all of his new, amazing accomplishments, his parents still view him as some sort of criminal.

"Y'know, you could always send the kid by himself," Saul offers. "We'd be happy to look after him for a week or so, show 'im around."

Jesse gapes at him. He's not sure if Saul's offering because it's something he genuinely wants, or because he's trying to make himself look good in front of Jesse's parents. But, man, Jesse wants to believe it's the former.

"That's—that's very generous of you, Mr. Goodman—"

"Please, it's Saul."

"Would you two like to stay tonight?" Mrs. Pinkman asks. "Jesse, you both could stay in your old bedroom."

Jesse's mouth drops open. Okay, it's official: everyone at this table has lost their minds, and Jesse's the only sane one left. He looks at Saul in shock. Saul seems unaffected by the offer. "As long as we keep the door open, right?" he says with a small smirk.

"Well, you're both adults. I suppose you've earned closed-door-sleepover privileges," Mr. Pinkman says.

Jake huffs, exasperated. "That is so not fair!"

"See, there's lots of advantages to being a grown-up," Saul says. "You don't have to eat broccoli, you can sit around in your pajamas and watch cartoons all day, or eat ice cream for breakfast. And no one can stop you."

Jake whines, "Don't rub it in," and Jesse's still trying to figure out if his parents have been replaced by Stepford clones.

#

"Who the hell are these people, and what did they do with my real parents?" Jesse asks once he shuts the door to his childhood bedroom.

Saul sits on the edge of the mattress, testing it like it might give out underneath him. "Would you really prefer things the old way?"

"N—no, but...it's just weird, okay? I thought they were gonna, like, fly into a rant about how art school is lame and how I won't make enough money, or be like 'are you sure liking dudes isn't just some phase you're going through?'"

Saul lifts a skeptical eyebrow. "And this is the version you _miss_?"

"I don't miss it. I just—if there's body-snatching aliens out there I wanna know about it so I can be ready."

Saul huffs a laugh and reaches for Jesse's hands. Jesse gives them to him. "Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, they're legitimately proud of you?"

"That's a question for science-fiction writers, yo. Get Rod Serling on that shit."

Saul slides a hand along the length of Jesse's tattooed arm. "Might be difficult, considering he's, y'know, dead."

"Smart-ass," Jesse grumbles, but there's no heat to it.

Saul lifts Jesse's hand to his mouth and kisses his knuckles. "This is going so much better than I expected."

"Why would they even be pissed at _you_?"

"Well, maybe they figure if I conned them out of their house, maybe I'm pulling some shady tactics in winning over their son."

Jesse laughs, his nose wrinkling a little. He lays his arms over Saul's shoulders and curls his fingers in the hair at the nape of Saul's neck. "Like what? Being awesome and supportive and great in bed?"

Saul tilts his head. "Just 'great'? Some of the noises you've made would build a decent case for 'awesome,' possibly 'god-like.'"

"_Someone_ thinks awful highly of himself." Jesse grins and steals a kiss.

"All your fault, kid," Saul manages before Jesse crawls into his lap. He gets his hands full of Jesse's shirt and tugs him in closer. Electricity races through his veins when his fingertips glide over Jesse's skin. Saul doesn't know if this feeling will ever fade, if it's supposed to. If he could bottle the way Jesse makes him feel, he'd be the richest man in the world. People sell their souls and their bodies for just a fraction of this euphoria, and yet Saul's lucky enough to have it all for himself. Because Jesse—for some unknown, possibly questionable reason—loves him.

If he thinks about it too much he'll go mad.

"You ever bring any girls up here?" Saul asks around Jesse's frantic mouth.

"Nah, you're the first."

"Is there more to that sentence, or were you trying to make a joke?"

Jesse nudges Saul's back against the mattress and straddles his hips, lowering himself into Saul's lap. The friction makes Saul's brain short out. He wraps his hands around the back of Jesse's thighs and squeezes the muscle there. Jesse leans in to kiss him, hands planted on either side of Saul's head. "I'm tryin' to get you to fuck me," Jesse breathes out, and, wow, that's the hottest thing Saul's ever heard.

"In your parents' house? Why do I feel like I'm in high school again?"

Jesse captures Saul's mouth, says, "I thought you said you didn't get laid in high school."

"I said I was a nerd. Nerds can get laid."

"We have sex on the regular, so, yeah, I guess nerds do get laid."

Saul laughs. "I love that you just insulted both of us." He sits up and guides Jesse's hands away from his skin. "I've just about sweat through this shirt. I should probably get a shower before we do anything involving nudity."

Jesse wiggles his tattooed wrist out of Saul's grasp and plucks at the neck of his t-shirt. "The guest bathroom has a garden tub," he says, lifting an eyebrow in a way that's supposed to mean something. "Room for two."

Saul can take a hint. "That changes things."

Jesse smiles and climbs off of him. "I'll come get you when I'm ready," he says, his voice low with a drawl of enticement. Saul barely manages to keep his tongue in the vicinity of his mouth as Jesse leaves the room.

He keeps himself busy while he waits, examining the objects in plain sight: books on shelves, posters pinned to the walls, toys on display. Saul's not sure if this room is supposed to be comforting for Jesse or a shrine to his more palatable days when he wasn't constantly in trouble with teachers or the law. Because Jesse seems like he's outgrown most of this stuff, although plenty of comic books and action figures here prove otherwise.

A soft knock on the open door makes him turn around. Mr. Pinkman's standing there, looking about as awkward as any parent would be when faced with their son's boyfriend. Saul forces up a friendly smile, but he's pretty sure Mr. Pinkman can see the fear there. This could be the awful moment Mr. Pinkman decides to unload on Saul for all the imagined trickery and deceit going on here. What horrible things must be running through his head right now?

But Mr. Pinkman just shakes his hand and says, "I thought I should thank you personally."

"For?" Saul's not sure how one word can sound so laced with panic and terror.

"For what you've done with Jesse."

Saul's stunned into silence.

"He looks happy and healthy, and now he's going to school. Whatever you did...well, it worked wonders."

Confusion balls up in Saul's gut. Yeah, it's a compliment, but at the same time it feels like an insult to Jesse, like he's incapable of self-improvement on his own. "I appreciate the kind words, but, uh, Jesse did most of it himself. All I did was push him in the right direction and give him a sort of harbor, if you will." Saul scratches his chin, wonders how best to explain this. "Jesse got mixed up with, well, let's just say some pretty bad _hombres_. I let him know if he ever wanted to drop off their radar for a bit he could come to me. And he did. Getting clean, going to school...that's all on Jesse. C'mon, we both know you can't _make_ Jesse do anything."

Mr. Pinkman chuckles knowingly. After a moment, he says, "He's safe now, right?"

"He will be." Saul wonders if that casts a new, displeasing light on his move with Jesse now. Because they're not just moving so Jesse can go to college; they're leaving Albuquerque to keep themselves safe from Mr. White and the periphery of Heisenberg's influence.

Mr. Pinkman nods. There's a beat of silence, then: "He loves you, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Saul says, grinning like an idiot, because the idea that Jesse Pinkman loves him is almost impossible to wrap his brain around. Yeah, he feels a little unworthy sometimes.

"I wouldn't be much of a father if I didn't ask: Do you love him?"

Like Saul's gonna say no in front of the kid's father. The truth falls from his lips effortlessly. "More than my own life, yeah." He rubs a hand over his mouth and sits on the edge of the bed. "That sounds like a hell of an exaggeration, but I actually almost died about a week or two ago." The timeframe's a little blurry around the edges, but Saul vividly remembers the upsurge of panic and terror inside of him as the ricin took hold. "And all I could think was, 'I can't die; I can't do that to Jesse.'"

Mr. Pinkman's brow creases in worry.

"So, yeah, of course I love him."

Something in Mr. Pinkman's expression changes, like his opinion of Saul has evolved entirely. "You don't have children, do you?"

Saul shakes his head, ignores the ripple of pain in his chest.

Mr. Pinkman glances off, staring at the remnants of Jesse's childhood on the walls. "You wanna make sure they're happy, but sometimes what makes them happy isn't necessarily good for them." When he looks at Saul again, he says, "But you're good for Jesse."

Saul's about to say something when the door nudges open. Jesse pokes his head in. "Dad, you're not giving him the whole 'break my son's heart and I'll shove my shotgun up your ass' speech, are you?"

Mr. Pinkman frowns at Jesse, moving for the door. "I did that _one_ time." 

"Yeah, well, she never went out with me again," Jesse hisses.

"And you ended up with Saul, so I suppose I didn't do too bad." Mr. Pinkman pats Jesse on the shoulder as he leaves.

Jesse rolls his eyes, waits until his father's gone before he says, "So there's some sick-ass bath salts in there if you wanna try 'em out."

"Bath salts, huh? Man, you sure know the way to a guy's heart," Saul says with a smirk, nearing Jesse.

Jesse lays a hand on Saul's chest before he can leave the room. "Did you really mean that?" He's got an imploring, open gaze that tells Saul he's not talking about the bath salts.

"Mean what?"

"What you said about being in love with me," Jesse says, his voice quivering around the words. "That you didn't wanna die 'cause of what it would do to me..."

Saul's mouth drops open. "You heard that?"

"Yeah, I was listening at the door for, like, two minutes," Jesse says with a laugh. Saul spends a long moment admiring how Jesse's smile lights up his face. God, he's so fucking perfect it's unreal. Saul wants to see that smile every day and be the one who makes it appear.

"You know what they say about eavesdroppers."

"No, what?"

"That they hear things they shouldn't." Saul toys with the hem of Jesse's t-shirt.

"Why shouldn't I hear how my boyfriend loves me more than his own life?" Jesse asks without a trace of teasing. Put that way, it's hard for Saul to create a decent argument.

"Because it's embarrassing, and you're absolutely going to use it against me."

Jesse's brow furrows. "Yo, that's cold. I'm not Mr. White."

Mirth tugs at the corner of Saul's mouth. He loves that they can joke about it now, that Walter White failed miserably in breaking them apart and succeeded in bringing them closer than ever.

Jesse pushes his hands under Saul's t-shirt, impatiently tugging at the waist of his jeans. "C'mon, take a bath with me and tell me more embarrassing stuff."

Saul doesn't have to be told twice.

#

Jesse feels like he's woken up in an alternate dimension of weird, because he's wearing a t-shirt and boxers in his childhood bedroom, and Saul's cuddled up alongside him wearing just as much clothing. One of Saul's arms is draped over Jesse's hip, curled around him in a way that's almost possessive. Jesse wriggles backwards to press himself closer along the line of Saul's body. The jut of something hard digs into Jesse's ass, and he realizes pretty quickly that it's not part of a leg or Saul's other arm.

Jesse grins to himself and grinds back into Saul's dick. "You pretendin' to be asleep?"

Saul groans, hooking a leg around Jesse's own to bring them closer. "You caught me." His mouth travels over the tattoo between Jesse's shoulder blades; Jesse sighs contentedly as Saul pushes his hips forward. "We might be able to sneak in a quickie before your parents wake up."

Jesse snorts a laugh. "God, this is so fuckin' weird. And, no, we won't, 'cause they get up at, like, the ass-crack of dawn." Golden sunlight's streaming through the gaps in the curtains, so odds are they're already awake.

"They've got a pretty solid knocking policy though, right?"

Jesse rolls over onto his other side so he's facing Saul. "Well, I've never had to hide another person in the room."

Saul scoffs. "Amateur."

"And I guess you were just a regular casanova when you were a teen, huh?" Jesse teases, slinking an arm around Saul's waist.

"I think I still am." Saul lifts an eyebrow. "Friendly reminder that I seduced the pants off of you."

Jesse knows that's bullshit, but if Saul wants to think he totally won Jesse over, then so be it. "When you're done pattin' yourself on the back, you mind takin' care of this?" He reaches down and palms the swell of Saul's cock through his boxers.

Saul sucks in a breath, twists his hips into Jesse's hand. "What good is havin' a boyfriend if I still have to take care of myself?"

Jesse gasps in faux-offense and smooths his fingers through the flap of Saul's boxers. "Bitch."

"Twink," Saul says, a smirk in his voice as he tangles a hand in Jesse's hair.

Jesse never thought he'd like sucking cock as much as he does, but since he started dating Saul it's one of his favorite pasttimes. Doesn't hurt that he's pretty good at it, either. Saul's quiet while he shakes under Jesse's lips, occasionally offering up a soft little grunt or hiss of Jesse's name through his teeth. Most of his praise is physical: fingers knotting in Jesse's hair, hands grasping at his arms or shoulders, legs sliding in the sheets.

Jesse enjoys Saul's responses to his mouth more than he should, but he loves the way Saul squirms and bucks and lets himself go with a surprised little moan, coming in long, wet stripes down Jesse's throat. Jesse pulls off slow and gentle, careful to focus on the softened, sensitive head of Saul's dick and lick him clean. Saul just groans, the sound a low rumble in his chest, and Jesse knows he's done a damn good job.

"Still think you don't need a boyfriend?" Jesse sits up and gives him a saccharine smile.

Saul's chest is still heaving slightly from the force of his orgasm. "Never said I didn't." He pulls himself up for a kiss. Jesse wonders if Saul can taste himself on his lips. His hands skim over the length of Jesse's thighs. "If we stay up here too long, your parents might start to wonder what exactly we're doing."

"And they'd be right."

"Hey, c'mon, kid. They actually like me." Saul swings his legs over the side of the bed and finds his jeans draped over the back of a chair. "They think I'm good for you. Let's not ruin that impression by making them think we're just sex-hungry nymphomaniacs."

Jesse sits cross-legged on the bed, watching Saul dress. "What, you can't be both?"

Saul pauses, one leg stuck through his jeans, to give Jesse the patented, "You're kidding, right?" look.

Jesse's unfazed by Saul's snark. "You just wanna get out of sucking my dick, don't you?"

"As much as I love deep-throating you, I'd really prefer cinnamon rolls in my mouth, and I'm fairly sure I smell them from downstairs." He zips up and heads for the door.

Jesse flops onto the mattress. "Either way you're endin' up with cream in your mouth." He grins at the way Saul's mouth scrunches into a frown.

Saul pauses in the doorway to affix Jesse with a judgemental stare. "Jesse Pinkman, you're a disgusting, sex-crazed, arrested adolescent." Then he smiles. "Never change, kiddo."

Jesse's pretty sure that's Saul's way of saying "I love you."

He's in no hurry, so he takes his time getting dressed and freshening up. As he's coming down the staircase, he hears Jake say his name in conversation, which makes Jesse freeze, because if he's being gossiped about he wants to know. He presses himself along the wall to hide out of sight. He can't see Jake or the person he's talking with, but there's only three people down there, and Jesse knows their voices pretty well, so he shouldn't have a problem figuring it out.

He tries to ignore the distant clanging in the laundry room and the soft sound of the TV from the living room so he can focus on the conversation. "It's like he's all they ever talk about," Jake's lamenting, his voice unusually quiet.

Saul's voice drifts into Jesse's ears next. "He's got a pretty eventful life. 'Course they talk about him. Besides, he's gonna be outta your hair anyway when he moves away for college. Problem solved, right?"

Jesse realizes in mounting horror that they're talking about him, and it doesn't sound like anything good.

"That's not gonna be the end of it, though," Jake says. "They're just gonna keep paying all this attention to him and forget about me."

Saul's quiet for a moment, then he says, "I don't have kids, but I imagine it's pretty hard to divide your focus equally, y'know? You seem like you got all your chess pieces on the board, so to speak, where Jesse—Jesse was like the kid who couldn't figure out where the pieces went. So, yeah, he needed extra attention, and since you seemed to be doing okay your parents probably figured you were fine."

There's a brief moment of silence, which Saul might be using to eat, because the next time he says something his mouth is half-full. "But, hey, don't knock the pieces off your board just to get attention. That's just gonna bite you in the ass. You're smarter than that; I can tell. I have a sixth sense for this kind of stuff. Just take care of yourself. Your parents don't need to pay attention to Jesse anymore. I got that totally under control."

Jake laughs, and, yeah, he probably heard the filthy implications in that sentence. Gross.

Jesse's heart swells in a way he's unfamiliar with, and he's stricken with the urge to go down there and kiss Saul until they can't breathe anymore. But instead he waits until the conversation ebbs before going downstairs.

After breakfast, Saul's upstairs slipping his shoes on when Jesse says, "So my brother seems to like you. Never knew you were good with kids."

"Funny, I don't hear a trace of sarcasm there."

"'Cause I'm being straight-up. You got nieces or nephews I don't know about?"

"Maybe I'm just a natural."

Jesse tilts his head, seeing Saul in a whole new light. His biological clock—do dudes even have those?—is going fucking haywire right now. Jesse opens his mouth, stops himself, because the last time he tried asking this question Mr. White punched Saul in the face. So, yeah, Jesse's a little apprehensive about treading this territory. But now's as good a time as ever, so he swallows back the nervousness and asks, "You ever think about havin' kids?"

"Yeah, I've thought about it, but, uh, it didn't quite work out." Saul gives a bitter chuckle at the end, and Jesse just _knows_ that sentence is rigged to blow. And he can't help but poke at it.

"What do you mean?" There are so many ways this question could go wrong, and Jesse doesn't even care, because he needs to know like he needs air to breathe.

Saul rubs a hand over the back of his neck, takes a couple steps toward Jesse before sighing and just dropping next to him on the edge of the bed. "It—it didn't work out," he says again, his voice low and shaky.

"Slow swimmers?" Jesse says, because he's an idiot who can't take a hint.

Saul shakes his head.

Jesse's brow creases in pain. "Oh, she—she couldn't...?" Why can't he just drop this?

Saul doesn't look at him, just stares straight ahead. "We could. The baby couldn't." He looks sort of shell-shocked when he adds, "Things never got back to the way they were."

That's when it slams into him like a car crash, and Jesse wishes he hadn't let this genie out of the bottle, because, Jesus Christ, that's fucking horrible. The rest of the story comes together in pieces, all the more painful because it's unspoken. Is this Saul's first relationship since then?

Jesse feels awful and honored at the same time. "God, I—I didn't know. I'm sorry." He drags a hand over his face. He shouldn't have pushed. He's so stupid.

Saul leans against Jesse's shoulder like he needs the warmth and support there. "It's okay, Jesse," he murmurs, his fingers tangling with Jesse's own. "Well, actually, no, it's still awful, but I'm okay."

Jesse briefly considers making a comment about how he and Saul have something else in common now—the death of a loved one—but his attempts to lighten the mood usually fail miserably. So he keeps his mouth shut. Wise.

"If I ever tried again, though," Saul says, "I'd want it to be with you."

Jesse doesn't know how to answer that, just stares at Saul with his mouth agape. Suddenly, he doesn't feel so silly for having mushy, ridiculous fantasies about raising kids with Saul in their new life together. Because it sounds like it's something Saul wants too, enough to tread the emotional landmines of his past.

"Maybe we could try, y'know, sometime in the future, or whenever. Maybe." Jesse's embarrassed about that trainwreck of a sentence, his face flushing red, but Saul squeezes his fingers and kisses his mouth, so maybe Jesse didn't screw this up too badly.


	2. Chapter 2

Jesse spends Saturday morning packing the contents of his bedroom into boxes. He doesn't get very far though, because when he opens his closet and finds a collection of old comic books he loses about an hour of productivity. Jesse could never _just_ clean his room; he had to end up playing with toys he rediscovered or reading books he'd lost underneath the bed or to the crevices between furniture.

This move is going to be such a pain in the ass with that kind of easily-distracted shit.

He's got his headphones in and iPod at full blast, so when someone lays a hand on his shoulder Jesse nearly jumps out of his skin. He makes a yelping noise he just _knows_ is embarrassing and unmanly, and he stumbles over his own feet in panic.

Saul's standing there laughing his ass off. _Fucker_.

"You're a dick," Jesse spits out. "I thought I was gonna be straight-up murdered."

"Who did you think I was?"

"Some dude lookin' for a place to hit? Mr. White? Hell, I didn't think it was you."

"I have a key. You should expect spontaneous visits by now."

"You could'a texted me first, but, no, I guess scaring the living animal Jesus outta me was the better option."

Saul snorts and tugs Jesse close by the hem of his t-shirt. "You have such a flair for the dramatic." He covers Jesse's mouth with his own before Jesse can protest. They can't seem to keep their hands—or other body parts—off of each other since the ricin incident, like the faint glimmer of a future without the other terrified them into a life of constant, never-ending touches. Which, hey, Jesse's not complaining.

Saul breaks away reluctantly to survey the mess surrounding them. It looks like someone dropped a grenade in the middle of the room. There's boxes, papers, clothes, and various objects scattered everywhere. He gives Jesse a curious eyebrow lift. "Is there any particular reason for the lack of progress here?"

Jesse scrunches up his face in a frown. "Oh, and I guess you're all packed up already, huh?"

"Actually, I am." Saul grins at Jesse's disbelief. "Y'know you can hire people to do this for you if a grand packing adventure is beyond your skills. It makes things so much easier."

"Maybe I wanna go through all my stuff," Jesse says. "There's a bunch of shit I gotta get rid of anyway." He casts a surreptitious glance at the box in the far corner filled with junk.

"And how's that going for you?"

"Oh, it's goin' awesome. That's why everything's, y'know, all over the floor."

Saul kisses the frowny line of Jesse's mouth. "Your sarcasm is adorable. Do you want me to help you?"

"If I say no, are you just gonna stand around and watch?"

Saul thinks about it. "Yeah, probably."

Jesse laughs. "Bitch."

"Twink," Saul says before stealing a kiss. Jesse's knees go a little weak, and he briefly entertains the idea of dragging Saul onto the bed and sealing their hips together, but Jesse's got a hard enough time getting motivated as is. Best not to bring nudity into the equation.

Jesse gets his mouth free and says, "Alright, c'mon. We got work to do."

#

Jesse finds it's much easier to simply get rid of things he's too lazy to pack, which Saul absolutely calls him on. That doesn't stop Jesse from doing it though, because he doesn't need half this crap anyway. If he's going to start a new life in Sarasota, it only makes sense to discard the unnecessary pieces of his old life and begin anew. He doesn't need anything tethering him to the past.

Saul's lounging on the bed watching Jesse dig through the trove of junk in his closet. "I thought you said you were gonna help me," Jesse grumbles.

"I _am_ helping."

"Really? 'Cause to me it looks like you're loafing."

"I'm offering moral support," Saul says, crossing his legs at the ankles. Jesse hurls a rolled-up pair of socks at him and hits him in the shoulder. "Ow! Just for that, I'm seriously considering rescinding my moral support."

"Ah, rescind this," Jesse bites back, flipping him off while his other hand pushes through the contents of a box.

Saul just tosses the socks at him and snickers when they bounce off of Jesse's head. Jesse's not too amused by Saul's teasing. "Dick," he growls under his breath.

"Have you had lunch? 'Cause you get a little grumpy when you're hungry."

Jesse crawls backwards out of the closet to get a glimpse of the clock on the night table. "I guess I could eat. But you gotta make me food, as penance for just sittin' on your ass the last couple hours."

"I don't know if I can endure the strenuous task of microwaving pizza rolls."

Jesse pushes himself up. "When did you get so lazy?"

"Almost dying kinda puts things in perspective," Saul says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Why waste energy when you don't need to, y'know?"

Jesse's navigating the proverbial minefield of junk strewn over the floor. "You better not be sluggish in other areas, or I'm gonna—" His foot catches on the inside of a box and sends him stumbling forward. Jesse manages to right himself and avoid face-planting onto the floor, but the contents of the box aren't so fortunate. Jesse grunts, exasperated as he kneels down. "See, if you had actually helped me..." He trails off when he gets a good look at the papers littering the floor.

Saul hops over the piles of junk and sidles up to Jesse. "You were saying?"

But Jesse doesn't hear him, because right now he's staring at the only tangible thing Mr. White ever gave him—failing marks in chemistry.

Saul kneels at his side. "Something important?"

Jesse opens his mouth, closes it. A flood of memories—some good, some bad—surges through his head like dam's been broken. "N—no, just, uh, just old shit." He sorts through the papers. Mr. White's angry handwriting leers back at him—_Try harder. Apply yourself. Not even close._ Then, Jesse finds the _coup de grace_: drawings he'd done of himself and Mr. White as superheroes, fighting evil through the power of chemistry.

Jesse's first instinct is to hide the evidence that he ever cared about Mr. White. He shoves the papers back into the box. "Yeah, just junk."

Saul lays a hand over Jesse's own, calming their fearful shake. "Hey, Jess', you don't have to get rid of anything on my account. I know you loved him. You don't have to be ashamed of that."

Tears prickle at his eyes, and his throat goes tight. "I'm not ashamed," he says, his voice quivering under the weight of the admission. "I just..." Jesse can't find the words—he's never been very good at that.

Saul sits on the floor and pulls Jesse into his arms. Jesse settles against the solid weight of his chest. "If holding on to memories of him is what's best for you, go ahead. I won't ask you to do anything that's gonna hurt you, kid."

Jesse stares at the papers. Mr. White's angry scrawl stares back at him. "He poisoned you. Why do I still give a shit?"

"Hey, if it was easy to stop caring about people who hurt you, everyone would do it." Saul presses a kiss to the back of Jesse's neck. "You're allowed to feel whatever you're feeling, Jesse. Like it or not, he's a part of you now. This is what I signed up for."

Jesse wipes his watery eyes with his hand. He _doesn't_ want Mr. White being a part of him, not now that he's starting over with Saul. Saul deserves to love a clean slate, and Jesse deserves to just _let go_, even if it hurts. Because Mr. White wouldn't give a second thought to throwing Jesse's things out. Why should Jesse afford him any more consideration?

Jesse shoves the box aside with his foot. "Whatever, yo. I'm done with him. You're the only man in my life."

Saul's mouth pulls into a smirk against Jesse's neck. "Why does that turn me on?"

"'Cause under that thin veneer of a sleazy, superficial, dirty-minded lawyer, you're actually...a sleazy, superficial, dirty-minded lawyer." Jesse grins and gets to his feet, offering Saul a hand once he's fully vertical.

"You _do_ know me so well."

#

It takes them a couple days to get everything packed, which Saul blames entirely on Jesse for distracting him with smoky smiles and flirtation. They save the living room for last, and on the final night packing up the place, they spend it on the floor sharing a pizza and watching TV on Jesse's laptop. It's like a grown-up slumber party.

"Be honest," Saul asks. "You gonna miss this place?"

"Not really," Jesse says around a bite of pizza.

"Seriously? You've lived here for years. Not feelin' anything?"

"Yeah, well, he ruined it." Jesse likes that he doesn't have to say the name anymore—Saul just _knows_. "Right from the beginning. Emilio and Krazy-8, the meth lab in the basement... Even with you here, the whole place just feels...haunted." His parents could remodel and repaint all they wanted, but there had been too much death here, soaked into the floorboards, into the foundations.

Saul nods like he understands. "That's gonna put a dent in the resale value, huh?"

Jesse huffs a laugh. "For real. But"—he peels the crust apart, stuffs a piece in his mouth—"that doesn't mean I don't have good memories here. Remember when you showed up after I bought the place? What kind of housewarming gift is a cactus?"

"Would you rather I showed up with flowers?" Saul jokes.

Jesse grins. "Maybe, yeah."

Saul chuckles, and he goes quiet for a moment before he says, "Would you laugh at me if I said I actually considered asking you out back then?"

Jesse snorts laughter, his nose crinkling. "Yeah, totally." Then his expression softens. "Why didn't you?"

"Well, considering the circumstances, I thought it would be in bad taste."

Jesse gives him a thoughtful look. "You should have. Would'a been nice."

"Really? You wouldn't have said no and slammed the door in my face?"

"I was lonely. Why do you think I went back to him?" After Jane died, Jesse needed a distraction, and Mr. White offered one. If someone else had put their hand out for him, Jesse would've had a hard time saying no.

Saul smiles sadly, perhaps wistful over a missed opportunity. "Well, I'm glad things turned out the way they did. I mean, not so much the poisoning—or the punching—but all the other stuff, the stuff with you, yeah, I wouldn't change a thing."

Jesse watches him with awed eyes. "How are you even real?"

Saul links an arm around Jesse's waist, leans back against the couch and brings Jesse with him. "Someday you're gonna stop being charmed by my every word." 

"But today is not that day," Jesse says, cuddling closer. He devours half of his slice of pizza before he says, "Hey, how long were you actually into me anyway?"

Jesse watches Saul's face go impossibly red. Is he embarrassed? Because that would be hilarious. "C'mon, kid. You got me. Does it really matter?"

"I wanna know," Jesse says. He might be whining a little, because he knows how Saul responds to that. "Tell me."

Saul's mouth does a frowny thing while he debates answering. "Alright, I might've—I might've had a tiny—and I mean microscopic—crush on you from the start. I mean, just in a purely shallow aesthetic sense."

Jesse can't _not_ laugh at that, because "the beginning" for them was Jesse pointing a gun in Saul's face. "Seriously? You're into some kinky shit."

"Look, it's not entirely my fault. I was in a state of anxiety and panic, and maybe the signals got mixed up and I misattributed that state to being near you."

"Instead of the gun in your face?" Jesse's just fucking with him now.

"I knew you weren't _really_ gonna shoot me," Saul says, rolling his eyes. One look tells Saul Jesse's not buying his story. "You're attractive, okay? And I'm kinda shallow. It's a recipe for disaster—or embarrassing anecdotes."

Jesse's thankful he didn't develop an attraction to Saul until after Jane. It's almost as if their relationship evolved as it should, aligning perfectly like an eclipse. Had either one of them taken longer to feel for the other, maybe Jesse would have caved and become lab partners with Mr. White. By that point, would it have been easy to disentangle?

Jesse leans against Saul's arm and finishes his pizza, savoring the cheese hidden inside the crust. "Well, I'm glad you finally grew a pair and asked me out," he says, his mouth full.

Saul's brow knits in confusion. "_You_ asked _me_ out."

Jesse smirks at him. "I know."

A mischievous smile grows on Saul's mouth like a weed. "Alright, kid, then let me be the first to ask you out when we get to Florida. I'm calling dibs. There's a couple great restaurants near our place. Your pick."

"Deal."

#

They spend the night on the couch, limbs and bodies tangled together in various states of undress. The sound of the doorbell slices through the hazy fog of Jesse's sleep. He blinks awake and climbs off of Saul, standing on shaky legs as he finds his discarded pajama pants and t-shirt. He's pulling his shirt over his head when he answers the door. "Yo."

Jesse's not expecting to see his little brother Jake standing there. Jake narrows his eyes. "Your shirt's inside out. And backwards."

Jesse glances down and notices the shirt tag sticking out at a jaunty angle. "Yeah. It is." Oops.

"Were you guys naked in there?"

There's really no point in denying it. "Sorta."

Jake makes a face. "Gross."

Jesse sticks his head out the door, searching for one of his parents' cars. "Kinda early. Did Mom and Dad drive you?"

"I rode my bike," Jake says, and Jesse notices that the bike's right there on his doorstep. Man, his observational skills are shit in the morning. "Thought I'd say goodbye before you leave." He shrugs like it doesn't mean anything.

Jesse smiles. "Thanks, I appreciate it. I'm gonna miss you too."

Jake smiles back, but it's awkward around the edges. He reaches into his bike basket and takes out a rolled-up piece of paper. "I made you something."

"Oh yeah?" Jesse takes the paper and unrolls it.

"I'm not really an artist like you, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

Jesse gets a good look at Jake's present: it's a drawing of a college degree, complete with Jesse's name and everything. He grins, then he laughs, because this is _awesome_.

"That should do 'til you get the real one."

"Totally. This is ace, man. Thank you." Jesse brings him in for a hug, and Jake doesn't even hesitate. "Hey, maybe sometime you could come chill with us, hang out at Disneyworld or Sea World or whatever."

"If Mom and Dad let me go," Jake mumbles.

"Do they even know you're here?"

"No." Jake laughs. "They're gonna be pissed."

Jesse chuckles, rubs a hand through Jake's hair. "Hey, c'mon, I'm the troublemaker in the family. Go on, get outta here before they find out you're gone."

Jake pulls his bike out of the walkway. "See ya, Jesse."

"Yeah, you too." He watches, waits for Jake to climb onto his bike and pedal down the driveway, disappearing out of sight. "Have a good rest of your life, kid," Jesse says before heading back inside.

Saul's tugging his pants over his hips when Jesse shuts the door. His hair's messy in a way that looks almost natural. "Was that your brother?" he asks as Jesse moves closer.

"Yeah, he just dropped off my diploma," Jesse says, unrolling the drawing so Saul can see. "Looks like I don't have to go to school after all."

Saul gives him a warm smile. "Your family is surprisingly normal. I'm not used to dating someone with relatives who aren't crazy."

"That's 'cause I'm the crazy one," Jesse says, tilting his head a little.

Saul can't resist covering Jesse's mouth with his own. "True, I've never dated anyone who cooked meth. That's a little wacky, right?"

"What did you think I was talkin' about?"

"Your rather questionable wardrobe, your taste in music, how much you know about zombies..." Saul thinks for a moment. "Actually, the zombie thing should be higher on that list."

"You own a velour tracksuit," Jesse says slowly, like he still can't believe it himself. "You got no right shittin' on my choice of clothes."

"_Owned_," Saul corrects him. "Past tense. You're not the only one who used this move as an opportunity to clean out the closets."

Jesse links his arms around Saul's hips. "Oh yeah? Did you find your heterosexuality in there too?"

Saul snickers. "Oh my God, you are _adorable_ when you're trying to make a joke." He ruffles Jesse's hair and kisses his mouth.

Jesse doesn't mind failed jokes when he gets a kiss out of the attempt.

#

Jesse volunteers to drive the first half of the way to their new place, which Saul finds slightly suspicious, but, whatever, he's not going to argue. It gives him time to rest up for his half of the drive anyway. He gets pretty comfortable in the passenger seat, catching a few short naps before he feels the car roll to a stop.

Saul blinks his eyes open and looks around. "Why the hell are we in the middle of the desert?" He thinks that's something he should say out loud, because, really, what the fuck, Jesse?

"Just a pit stop. Don't worry about it. You got a light?"

Saul pops open the glovebox and hands him a matchbook emblazoned with his name and office number—both of which are obsolete now. Jesse smirks. "You don't even smoke."

"You do," Saul says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world that he'd have matches in his car for his boyfriend.

Jesse slides out of the driver's seat. He hauls a box from the trunk, sets it down some distance away from the car. He strikes a match and drops it. The box erupts into long tongues of red and yellow, flames dancing against the scorched earth. Jesse stands back and watches. Saul wishes he could see the expression on Jesse's face, see if he's regretting burning all tangible ties to Walter White. Christ, it's like something out of a Taylor Swift song.

But Saul understands why Jesse needs this. Destroying these things is the final farewell to Jesse's old life entangled with Walt.

Jesse stands there as the flames climb high and smoke billows and diffuses into the sky. Slowly, the papers crumble into dust along with the box that holds them. Soon there's nothing but a pile of ash and embers on the barren dirt. Nothing to prove Walter White held any power over Jesse but the scars in his head.

Jesse stamps out the dying fire and heads back to the car. "Alright," he says as he slides in, "let's go."

They leave Albuquerque behind with new names and a new start, with hopes and dreams that rise like smoke over the last remnants of Walter White in Jesse's memory.


	3. Chapter 3

Jesse's only ever been on one road trip in his life—he refuses to include the desert cooks with Walter White in his tally—and that was shortly after high school when Badger had the brilliant idea of going up to Las Vegas to "party the fuck out." So Jesse, Badger, Skinny Pete, and Combo all piled into Combo's mom's RV for what was supposed to be a promising post-graduation trip.

Unfortunately, Badger is a douchebag who thinks he's hilarious, and apparently there's a Las Vegas in New Mexico. Combined, these two facts made for a terrible weekend, in part because Badger got lost on the way there—"how the fuck do you get lost on the interstate?" Jesse had shouted.

Jesse's road trip with Saul, however, is proving to be far more promising. No one's gotten lost—yet—and they seem to be on their way to Sarasota, Florida and not Sarasota...some other state that's not Florida; Jesse was never great at geography. His biggest complaint so far is the entire Led Zeppelin discography that Saul's forcing him to listen to, which, really, things could be _so_ much worse.

They subsist on a diet of drive-thru burgers and fountain drinks, spending muggy nights in questionable side-of-the-road motels and having sweaty sex on worn-out mattresses. It's nomadic in a way that feels like home.

On the third day of their drive, the sun's beginning to set as they cross the Florida State Line. Jesse finds himself nodding off, but he thinks it's because hearing "Trampled Under Foot" for the tenth time today is slowly putting him in a coma.

Saul stifles a yawn. "I think we better find a place to stop for the night."

"We could still make it," Jesse says. He doesn't know how many miles they have to go, but it can't be _that_ far.

"My ass is startin' to hurt, kid, so unless you wanna take over, we're callin' it a day."

Jesse squints. "Your ass is gonna hurt no matter what seat you're in."

"Not if I'm lying down in the back."

"Why do you get to lie down?"

"'Cause it's my car."

Jesse groans out a huff of breath. This is his punishment for dating somebody who argues for a living. Fucking incredible. "Fine, we can stop. But try to find a place that doesn't look like a serial killer hideout."

"What're you worried about? You got me."

Jesse snorts. "Yeah, that totally makes me feel better." He gazes out the window at the greenery rushing past. "It's not even that late, yo. Why not just keep going?"

"I don't wanna get to our new place and be too tired to fully enjoy the first night there," Saul says. "Plus, I distinctly remember promising you a date when we get there. I wanna enjoy that to its fullest too."

"You mean the sex?"

"What'd you think I was talking about?" Saul smirks.

They manage to find a decent enough hotel by nightfall. Their room smells like fresh linens and sea salt. The air conditioner pumps in cool air to combat the humidity outside. Jesse drops onto the bed and spreads his arms wide over the duvet like he's making a snow angel. "Dude, this bed feels awesome. No springs."

Saul moves in and closes his wrists over Jesse's, spreading out over him as his knees find the spaces between Jesse's legs. "We can definitely have some fun with this," Saul says, testing the mattress' give.

"I thought you were tired."

"Too tired to drive for another couple hours, not to have sex with my blond, twenty-something boyfriend." Saul grins at that.

"You should get that printed on a business card, the way you brag about it."

Saul steals a kiss before Jesse can protest. "Wouldn't you brag about banging a gorgeous, young blond with a body to die for?"

Jesse laughs and kisses him again. "I already do."

"_Smooth_. Consider me disrobed."

Jesse hooks his legs around Saul's hips, applies himself to working open the button of Saul's jeans. Saul just closes his mouth over Jesse's and nips at his bottom lip. Arousal twists in Jesse's gut, because Saul's the perfect mix of loving and possessive. Mr. White could never balance the two, too far over the edge of domineering and smothering. And, yeah, Jesse finds himself comparing Saul with Mr. White a lot, but they're both older men a bit obsessed with him; comparison is sort of in the cards.

Saul manages to shove Jesse's jeans and boxers off of his hips in a way that makes Jesse feel like a slut. He bites his lips, squirms at the heat of Saul's palms over his thighs. Saul's mouth is wet and hot around his dick, and Jesse writhes under the suction. He manages to push Saul's head away. Saul looks at him, adoring and lustful, his mouth already red and slick.

"I wanna—I wanna try somethin'," Jesse manages, tugging him up the bed so he can stick his hand into Saul's pocket and dig out his wallet. Jesse finds the packet of lube there—"for emergencies," Saul had said—snags it open with his teeth.

Saul watches, curious as Jesse works the oil over his own cock. "What are you thinkin'?" he asks, low and lusty, like he already knows the answer.

"You'll see. If you're cool with it, I mean."

"As long as it doesn't involve sharp objects, you can do whatever you want."

That's all the permission Jesse needs to jerk Saul's jeans down the rest of the way, taking the denim and his underwear off in one go. He pulls Saul's t-shirt over his head, and Saul does the same for Jesse, latching his mouth to the tattoo over Jesse's chest and sucking kisses over the skin. Saul's got his teeth around a nipple when Jesse eases two slickened fingers in, and Saul groans the hottest fucking sound Jesse's ever heard. "Oh fuck," he moans, low and gravelly, tilting his hips into the slow dip of Jesse's hand.

It's definitely Saul's first time doing this, but Jesse can tell he's thought about it before, maybe floated the idea with a now ex-lover. Jesse doesn't know how anyone could deny Saul anything, though he's secretly glad he gets to be the first person to take Saul apart this way, fingers moving in and out and making him shake with need.

Saul feels wide open already, so Jesse turns him over, shoves his back against the mattress. Saul lets his thighs fall open, lets Jesse slide in between his knees and kiss him savagely. His hands glide over the sweep of Jesse's shoulders, following the curve of his back, and when Jesse catches a hand underneath Saul's knee and slides his dick in, Saul digs his fingers into the base of Jesse's spine, ankles hooked around his hips.

Saul's the tightest thing Jesse's ever stuck his cock into. It's overwhelming as fuck, and Jesse fights the instinct to thrust with all he has, because Saul's new to this. "Jesse, Jesse," Saul groans as Jesse rolls his hips, soft and slow. Jesse catches his mouth again, swallows his grateful moans, and Saul rocks into Jesse's thrusts, deepening the push and pull of their hips. His heels push against Jesse's ass in an attempt to shove him closer. "C'mon, kid, " he huffs out, "I know you got more than that."

Jesse starts shoving in harder and earns noises he's never heard from Saul before. He can feel the way Saul's hands drag over his back, trembling and taut with almost-there tension. Jesse's starting to feel a little intoxicated himself, drunk on the way their bodies fit together and the way Saul says his name like it's something sacred, hot whispers into the curve of Jesse's neck.

It doesn't take very long for Saul to fall apart, moans falling from his lips as he comes in long, wet stripes over his belly. His hands claw at Jesse's back, his shoulders, in his hair. The sight of Saul wrecked and satisfied and cum-smeared is enough to send Jesse over the edge, then the tight clutch around Jesse's dick breaks him completely.

Jesse spills hot and wet inside of him, cock twitching until he's spent. He claims Saul's mouth through the comedown, and when his dick's forced out he crawls between Saul's legs and licks at the tight bud of muscle there, lapping at his own cum dribbling out. Saul had done this for him last night, gotten Jesse off with just hot breath and the flick of his tongue, so Jesse figures he can return the favor. Saul moans like he's dying and hooks his legs over Jesse's shoulders, and Jesse licks him open, tongue stroking and pressing as long as it takes to strip a second orgasm out of Saul's bones.

#

They roll into the driveway of their new home around late afternoon the next day. The neighborhood is lush, extravagant in a way that's sort of intimidating. Vibrant greenery lines each side of the street. Trees burst proudly from the ground in every lawn, palm fronds fanning out like windmills in the sky. Each house has an elaborate array of shrubbery in front, some more meticulously kept than others. The houses themselves are all pastel, calm shades, roofs covered with more vibrant colors. Some houses look like luxurious beach mansions, others—like Saul and Jesse's humble home—are modest dwellings. A park wraps around the back side of the neighborhood, leading to a tranquil little lake that opens up into Sarasota Bay.

It's the total opposite of Albuquerque, and Jesse absolutely loves it.

Inside their home, the foyer is bright and open. Sunlight streams in from the windows and casts a hazy glow. Sure, it's pretty barren now, but Jesse can easily envision how it might look with furniture and the proper décor. The walls are painted a two-tone of cream and white, leading into a cozy little country-style kitchen.

"Man, the pictures totally didn't do this place justice," Jesse says, running his hands over every surface he can—the kitchen counters, the walls, the doorframes. "It's huge."

"It's like a Tardis," Saul says, and Jesse kind of hates himself for understanding that reference. He's pretty much resigned himself to the fact that his life's going to be lousy with nerds _forever_.

Saul's hand is hot on Jesse's lower back, the heat of his palm seemingly burning through his t-shirt. "But wait 'til you see the bedrooms."

"There's two?"

"Well, one and a half. The second one's more like a kid's room, but I figured we could turn it into a home office." Saul leads him down the hallway into what Jesse assumes is the master bedroom. The windows are the perfect size; Jesse had been worried the new place would have those giant windows that are practically doors; after what they've gone through with Mr. White Jesse doesn't want anyone having easy access to their bedroom. There's a small nook in the far corner of the room, perfect for reading or sketching in the early morning or afternoon.

"Whadd'ya think? Big enough for all our crap?"

"Totally." Then: "Wait, is this the smaller bedroom?" There's no way the other room is bigger than this.

"God no. Let me show you."

Jesse's expecting something awfully cramped and horrible when Saul opens the door to the second bedroom, but what it lacks in width it makes up for in length, making it perfect for a home office that utilizes desks. Some shelves, space-saving furniture... There are possibilities here.

"It's not that bad. I like it." Jesse grins at Saul's relieved expression and leans against the doorframe. "Dude, I never thought we'd get here, like, to the stage where we live together in our own place. To me, that's awesome just by itself. This house is freakin' amazing, yo, but what's even more amazing is I get to share it with you." He wrinkles his nose. "That was way too sappy, huh?"

Saul smiles at him, and the light streaming through the windows makes him look like a goddamn angel. "Just a bit. But I'll let you in on a secret: I like sappy."

"Some secret," Jesse says with a huff of amusement. "You're, like, ninety percent sap. Might as well be a fuckin' tree."

Saul actually laughs at that, and Jesse beams. Making Saul laugh is like pulling off one of those near-impossible chain combos in Street Fighter, so when he gets it right he cherishes the moment.

The sun's beginning to sink in the sky by the time they're finished tentatively arranging furniture and sorting boxes into the appropriate rooms. Jesse slumps against a huge box marked "living room." He doesn't even want to think about unpacking yet, not when he's already worked up a sweat just moving boxes. Christ, getting that barrel of methylamine out of the warehouse wasn't this physically exerting. Maybe Jesse's just out of shape since he stopped hanging out with Mr. White.

"We're still on for our date, right?" Saul asks, like there's any chance Jesse might say no.

"Yeah, just lemme get a shower first." Jesse looks him over. "You should probably do the same."

"After you, kid."

Jesse grabs the duffel bag he's been lugging around the past couple days and treks down the hall, shoes thumping over the hardwood floor.

The bathroom's pretty impressive. Straight ahead is a walk-in shower stall with a sliding glass door, and a cubby hole of three-tiered shelving for towels and various shower supplies. The sink and toilet are on the far wall, along with a generously-sized mirror and two metal towel bars. Small square windows sit atop the opposite wall, as well as an elegant tub nestled into the space below the shelving. The floor is grey slate tile, the countertops a bony marble.

Jesse sets his bag on the edge of the tub and digs out a fresh change of clothes. He finds the shampoo and soaps he'd pilfered from the hotel last night. A box labeled "bathroom" holds towels and other necessities. He strips down, turns on the water and steps into the shower. Jesse sighs as the hot needles beat down over his skin; the water pressure here is fucking _awesome_.

Jesse's rinsing the suds out of his hair when he hears the door creak open.

"Knock knock," Saul says, forgoing the action of actually knocking. "Wanna let me squeeze in there and keep you company? I'll wash your back...and anyplace else you have trouble reaching." The stall door's fogged over, so Jesse can't see the cocky, self-assured eyebrow lift and smirk Saul's giving him right now, but he _knows_ it's there.

"I can reach my junk just fine."

"Can I watch?"

Jesse hears the faint sounds of a zipper unzipping and denim hitting the floor. Saul's vague, blurry form pulls his shirt over his head, and, yeah, it's a little hard not to be turned on by that. "God, you have the sex drive of a teenager." He watches Saul through the murky shower glass, licks his lips at the abundance of flesh.

"So do you. And, hey, enjoy it while it lasts," Saul says.

A plastic cap snaps open, and Jesse says, "I already washed my hair. There's shampoo in here if you need it."

Saul slides the door open and joins Jesse under the hot spray. He wraps an arm around Jesse's waist to crush him closer and press the curve of his back along the line of Saul's body. Jesse instinctively digs his hips back against Saul's cock. He can feel the swell of it against his ass, demanding attention.

Saul's other hand curves around Jesse's hip and nudges its way between his thighs, two slick fingers teasing and pressing where Jesse needs his touch the most. "Oh," Jesse shudders out, every thought subsumed into a gasp when Saul pushes his fingers in and rolls his thumb over Jesse's balls. Jesse sucks in a breath through his teeth, fingers stuttering down the length of Saul's arm to cover his hand as it moves between his legs. He rocks his hips back, and Saul shoves forward, grinding his erection against Jesse's ass. Jesse's free hand reaches blindly behind him, groping for Saul's dick. He gets his fingers around it and feels his throb in his palm. It's already slick with oil, because Saul wants the same things Jesse does; he's just afraid to ask sometimes.

"I want it," Jesse says around jagged breaths, tugging at Saul's cock for emphasis. Saul edges his fingers out, uses one hand to line himself up and the other to hold Jesse's hips in place. Jesse leans forward on the wet tile, braced on his arms, because he likes being bent over when Saul pushes his way in. He shakes out a groan as Saul fills him up, feels his skin prickle over with chills at Saul's hot breath over the tattoo between his shoulder blades.

Saul cleaves into him, hot and greedy, and Jesse buries his moans into the tile. The shove of their hips is messy, wet synchronicity. Jesse loves the wet drag of skin on skin, the way Saul shakes out Jesse's name and mangled half-words into the slope of his shoulder or the shell of his ear, the way he clutches Jesse's hips as he nears the end of the world.

Jesse can't help but moan out loud now, fingers dragging down the tile, because Saul's tagging his prostate with every thrust. "'S perfect," Jesse slurs out before another thrust has him choking on a shaky breath. Saul's pressing frantic kisses to his tattoo, murmuring soft praises mixed with Jesse's name over his skin. He slams his hips forward, fucking deep into Jesse in long strokes, and Jesse moans a loud sound of gratitude. Every movement is too hot and too sharp. He's so close he might actually die.

Saul crumbles first, digging his teeth into the curve of Jesse's shoulder as he comes. Jesse can feel Saul's orgasm, hot and wet inside of him, and fuck if it doesn't get him off every time. He claws at the tile, coming hard and moaning loud, pathetic sounds while Saul shoves into him through the aftershocks, and Jesse's burning, tingling, numb with the heat of them. Saul kisses over the spot where his teeth dug in, apologetic for any pain, but Jesse doesn't even care, because Saul's rarely this rough with him. Yeah, Jesse likes a bit of man-handling.

"That was awesome," Jesse says, slumping against the wall while Saul kisses his speckled shoulders.

They manage to finish their shower without any more sexual distractions, though once the water's shut off Saul leads Jesse into the bedroom and presses him down onto the mattress. His eager mouth travels over Jesse's damp skin, sucking kisses around nipples, tongue dipping into his navel, lips briefly opening around the head of Jesse's dick before his mouth ventures lower still. Jesse wraps his hands in Saul's wet hair, then Saul's mouth captures the spot that makes him writhe and squirm, one leg hooked over Saul's shoulders and the other stretched out across the floor, heel skidding against the hardwood.

Jesse never imagined liking this as much as he does, but this relationship is introducing him to a lot of kinks he never knew he had. Saul's breath ghosts over his skin as his mouth and tongue work to fulfill Jesse. He can feel Saul grin against him when he makes a particularly loud noise of want. "You suck at holding still," Saul chuckles, and the words reverberate through Jesse's tortured nerves, making him cry a broken noise against the air.

"You got your tongue in my ass," Jesse hiccups around a moan. Saul's not being fair here; this is only Jesse's second time doing this, but he doesn't think he'll ever really get used to the wet stab of Saul's tongue inside of him. Jesse manages to say, "And it's not like you're any better," before Saul hums around him and silences his protests completely. His mouth swirls and sucks and licks until Jesse's orgasm shakes out of him and he crumbles around Saul's tongue, an electric sweep of sensation zipping up his spine. Saul lingers between his legs while Jesse shoots ribbons over his belly, then his tongue's lapping at the cum pooled there. Jesse sighs a defeated, satiated breath, curls his fingers in Saul's hair as Saul licks him clean.

"We're never gonna have that fuckin' date if you keep givin' me orgasms," Jesse says through a laugh, settling into the mattress.

Saul lifts his head up to affix Jesse with a perplexed stare. "You're complaining about having orgasms? Are you even a real person?"

Jesse stares up at the ceiling. "I'm not complaining. I'm just hungry." He covers his stomach with a hand as if the gesture might appease some of its emptiness. "Aren't you? Wait, God, no, don't answer that, 'cause you're just gonna make some lame joke about eating me out."

Saul snickers in a way that tells Jesse he was absolutely going to make that joke. "You used to love my humor."

"Yeah, well, you used to be funny." Jesse bursts into giggles at the look of pure offense on Saul's face. "I'm kidding, yo!" He lays his hands on Saul's shoulders. "C'mon, I'm starved, and you promised me a date. I don't care if we go somewhere fancy or just drive through Taco Bell, but either way I'm gettin' food."

Saul sits up and slides his hands along the outside of Jesse's thighs. "You're so low-maintenance. It's refreshing."

"All I need is cheap food and good dick, and I'm happy," Jesse says, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Well, lucky for you, I've got the good dick part down."

#

Dinner takes place in an Asian bar and grill located a few lights down from their neighborhood. They're sitting in a booth next to the wall-sized water fountain, which looks rather nice, but the constant trickling sound isn't drowned out by the music flowing through the speakers—classic rock, always a good choice—and it's driving Saul slightly crazy; there's nothing like the sound of running water to make you feel the need to pee.

But Saul's distracted by the delicious-looking curve of Jesse's throat and the tempting peek at his chest he's getting from the neck of Jesse's t-shirt. Jesse's wearing one of Saul's faded AC/DC tees, and, damn, does the kid wear it well. Saul can't stop staring at the way the tip of the v-neck hangs below Jesse's collarbone.

"I can't believe you eat that crap," Jesse says with a sneer at Saul's plate.

Saul has to glance down to see what Jesse's talking about. "What, this?" He holds up a roll of sushi between his chopsticks.

Jesse makes a face. "It's raw fish."

"Not always. That's a misnomer. And, hello, you eat raw cookie dough."

"Totally not the same thing," Jesse protests.

"I've caught you sneaking strips of raw bacon out of the fridge."

Jesse pouts like he knows he's lost the argument, frowns down at the pile of noodles and deep-fried morsels on his plate. "Whatever, man. That shit's delicious." He stabs his fork into a piece of orange chicken for emphasis.

"To be fair, there's only a few types I'll eat. Tuna and salmon, for example, are right up there on the top of my 'hell no' list. But I'll stuff anything with crab and shrimp into my face."

The corner of Jesse's mouth quirks into a smile he looks like he's trying to fight. "Still gross as hell."

"I don't know how this relationship is gonna survive," Saul says, feigning disappointment. He nabs a piece of chicken off of Jesse's plate. Jesse attempts to swat Saul's hand away with his fork, but he's too slow.

"You don't understand my love for pepper burgers, I don't get your love for sushi." Jesse shrugs. "We're even."

Saul makes a sound of consideration around a mouthful of food. "What about your tendency to make orgasm noises when you eat? If memory serves me right, you practically jizzed your pants on our first date."

Jesse's face goes hot. "It's called a foodgasm, yo. Look it up."

"Did you just make up a word to justify your illicit love affair with a hamburger?"

Saul loves the way Jesse's nose crinkles when he laughs. "No, I swear it's real. Seriously, Google it."

Saul digs his phone out of his pocket and does just that. Apparently it _is_ a real thing. He frowns, looks at Jesse. "You win this time."

Jesse gives him a sassy, sort of spiteful smile, and Saul still doesn't understand how the kid can look so stupidly attractive even while he's eating. There's a smear of sauce at the corner of his mouth that Saul's tempted to lick away, but Jesse's tongue darts out and does it for him.

Jesse's watching him inquisitively, like he's trying to figure out the thoughts in Saul's head. Then Jesse's foot hooks around Saul's calf and tugs him forward. Saul chokes on a breath. "I totally won you over on that first date, didn't I?" Jesse asks with a grin. "Footsie game too strong."

"That sentence went so wrong in so many ways." The toe of Jesse's shoe travels up Saul's leg, making his voice shake.

"Whatever, man. I bet you're totally hard now though." He smirks, all the while molesting Saul's leg under the table. "But you seem like the kind of guy who's always got a boner."

"That's not exactly fair. I mean, you only know me when I'm around you—of course I'm gonna be hard."

Jesse smiles, half-lidded in a way that reminds Saul of whiskey and cigarettes. He leans in and murmurs, "I'm already gonna fuck you tonight. You don't have to flatter me."

Arousal blooms in Saul's gut at the words and the freckles lining the juncture of Jesse's neck and shoulder. "But I'm so good at it."

Saul's still surprised at how much food Jesse can pack away despite his tiny frame. He devours another plate of appetizers after he's done with the orange chicken. Saul's only half-way finished with his sushi, but maybe that has something to do with him watching Jesse all night.

Jesse glances at the dessert menu, licking soy sauce from the corner of his mouth. "I'm diggin' that chocolate cake."

"How do you even have room for that? You weigh, what, a hundred pounds?"

"Don't worry, I'll let you share." He flashes another sickly-sweet smile. "Just like our first date, remember?"

Saul does remember; it's hard to forget how fucking charming Jesse is, especially when he's flirting and trying his hardest to be subtle about it. If Saul hadn't had a crush on Jesse before that afternoon, that date would have sealed the deal for sure.

They don't bother putting the bed together when they get home, because Saul latches his mouth to the slope of Jesse's neck, Jesse moans a gravelly sound of want, and any hopes of productivity are shot down when Jesse gets Saul's back against the mattress and sinks on his cock.

In the morning, Saul wakes to sunlight blaring through the slits in the blinds and the sound of a sprinkler spitting water in the yard next door. Jesse's snoozing quietly beside him, and Saul can see the tattoo etched between his shoulder blades. He can't remember the last time he woke up on a mattress on the floor—probably college. It's still sinking in that this is real, that they're miles away from their old lives, starting something new together. Saul's done the whole marriage thing plenty of times, but none of it holds a candle to everything he's been through with Jesse, which makes what they have here feel so much more solid than any of his past relationships. He can feel it in his bones that Jesse's in this for the long haul.

Jesse stirs in his sleep, stretching his limbs out before cracking one eye open. His mouth curls into a smile when he looks at Saul. "Mornin'."

Saul pulls Jesse in close, presses a kiss to his shoulder. "You sleep okay?" he mumbles over Jesse's skin.

Jesse makes a noise of agreement. His hands find the small of Saul's back, fingers tracing the dip there, and he nestles his head into the crook of Saul's neck and chest. Saul hums contentment at the drag of stubble against his skin. He breathes in the comforting scent of Jesse's hair, lets Jesse's fingers play along the valley of his spine.

Jesse murmurs a quiet laugh. "Y'know, this is the first time I've woke up in an empty house and been totally happy."

Saul knows the last time Jesse moved wasn't under the best circumstances—Jane's death probably overshadowed every facet of joy like a heavy cloud, and Jesse had to contend with getting clean alongside handling his grief. "Oh yeah?"

Jesse nods. "I came pretty close when I moved in next door to Jane, but..." He trails off like he doesn't know how to finish that sentence. But Saul can figure out how it might have ended. He shrugs, glances up at Saul. "It's different with you."

"Yeah, now you're the little spoon."

Jesse breathes laughter into the hollow of Saul's throat and holds him tighter. Outside, a bird chirps a happy song from its perch in a tree. Saul stretches his legs out, and the sound of the blankets shifting echoes through the room. He sneaks a hand into the space between them to trace over the tattoo on Jesse's chest. His thumb rubs over a nipple and pulls out a groan from Jesse. His hand trails lower before settling on the curve of Jesse's hip.

Saul's fairly sure the bottle of lube they used last night is still somewhere behind him on the floor. He's about to reach for it when Jesse's stomach makes an unholy growl of hunger.

"How can you possibly want food now?"

Jesse gives him a bashful smile. "Guess we used up a lot of energy last night."

Saul rubs his eyes and rolls onto his back, throws his arm over the side of the mattress in a search for his cell phone. He gets the screen switched on. Huge white numbers read "1:06."

"We slept 'til one in the afternoon," Saul says. Mr. Obvious.

"But it's only, like, eleven in ABQ though."

"Well, we're on the other side of the country where it's one o'clock."

"Did we have somewhere to be today?"

"No, but I wanted to make you breakfast," Saul says, forcing himself to sit up. He doesn't fail to notice the way Jesse's gaze travels down his body and lingers where the sheets begin, or the dart of pink tongue as Jesse licks his lips.

"You still can. You know there's not, like, a statute of limitations on eating pancakes, right?"

"Okay, first of all, when you use legal terms properly in a sentence it turns me on. It's my kryptonite."

Jesse grins, gazing up at him like Saul's the center of his whole world; Saul feels his heart swell in his chest. "Oh yeah? You up for a little _direct examination_?" Jesse purrs, pushing a hand underneath the sheets and skimming his fingers over the length of Saul's dick.

Saul's breath hitches in his throat. "That one's a little shaky, but I'll let it slide."

"Alright..." Jesse throws a leg over Saul's hips. "How 'bout an _oral examination, _Counsellor?"

Saul snickers. "I'm surprised you didn't make a joke about the penal code."

"'Cause I'm classy as fuck." Jesse glances down where Saul's nudging his hips into Jesse's thigh. "Looks like you got a _firm offer_ for me, huh?"

"Motion to use the terms properly, Jesse."

"Motion to suck my dick," Jesse snaps back, playful.

Saul skims his hands over the tops of Jesse's thighs and says, "Motion granted."


End file.
